


And Then There Was One

by Stark_Popped



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Dirty Talk, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder Mystery, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Frustration, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5870248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Popped/pseuds/Stark_Popped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, well, Captain Rogers.”</p><p>“Mr Stark.” He breathed.</p><p>The brunet considered him for a moment before smiling politely as if they have met for the first time. “Tony.” He corrected.</p><p>The blond matched his smile. “Steve.” </p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>What if the avengers don't know each other, are not super heroes but skilled military personnel with dark pasts? Based on Agatha Christie's best-selling novel 'And Then There Were None' this story re-imagines the avengers in a period drama murder mystery. Ten strangers find themselves cut off from civilisation on an isolated rock of island with no-one but each other to uncover the cause of the mysterious deaths (then Captain Rogers and Mr Stark share a couple of explicit steamy nights together [chapter 4 onwards] because why not?).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

He hated this. Of all the conferences he had been to this was set up to be the worst one yet. Stuck in a dingy boat with seven others was a situation he had never imagined he would end up in when he received an invitation to a weekend conference on ‘Soldier Island’ yet here he was. At least he vaguely knew two of the other guests, Virginia Potts sat to his right, a small strawberry blonde lady who worked briefly as his PA before moving onto better things. He didn’t blame her. Colonel Rhodes sat hunched over opposite, a stern looking man clearly enjoying the cold as much as he was. He remembered meeting him a few years ago at a charity dinner, the two got along well enough as far as superficial acquaintances get along. The other five guests he had no idea, faceless irrelevant strangers.

The cold wind bit at Mr Stark’s skin, the notion of any kind of warmth almost seemed like a faded dream until he saw the outline of the island through the grey mist. The approaching storm threatened to descend around them soon. So this was Soldier Island. Creepy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Once settled in the warmth, they sat down to dinner cooked by an emaciated haggard old house maid called Mrs Roberts who joined them alongside her sour-faced husband, Mr Roberts, the butler of the house. The other guests seemed tolerable enough to bear, each of them having a similar background involving the military, most of them served in the forces themselves apart from Virginia and himself. They should all be grateful to him, without Stark Industries they would all be dead. He continued to chew on his dinner distracted by his thoughts.

“Mr Stark?” he looked up to the source of the voice. A tall, blond, muscular man was looking directly at him. Captain Rogers if he remembered correctly. God, the man looked ridiculous, like a walking poster advertisement for army recruitment. The ideal soldier that all young men are constantly forced to aspire to these days.

“Dr Banner asked how you got here.” The Captain continued. Mr Stark turned to the military doctor, a bespectacled weathered looking man with curly salt and pepper hair who looked like he could use a few good nights’ rest.

“Well, aside from the nausea inducing boat ride, the train cabin was much warmer.” A few polite chuckles rippled throughout the room as Mr Stark took a long sip from his whiskey; keeping up conversation with these squares was going to need some inspiration.

“Ha! I should’ve got the train!” loudly remarked a young blonde whippersnapper of a man. He was bearing an almost manic smile, clearly under the influence of something more ‘inspirational’ than the glass of wine in his hand. Mr Barton continued, “Took the car myself, and would’ve been a lot faster without the grandmas on the road! One fogey on the road today had the audacity to shout all sorts of profanities at me. Not my fault he was driving so slow!” the young man laughed to himself.

“So that was you?!” Dr Banner bore an expression of pure anger as he glared at Mr Barton, cutting his laughter short.

“Well, obviously military doctors have no concept of a gas pedal!” The young marksman snapped back, grinning that same obnoxious manic smile.

“Good lord, man, you nearly ran me off the road!” the doctor slammed his hands on the table.

“Ooooh, calm down, grandpa, you don’t want to stress that weak heart of yours!”

“I’m warning you, Mr Barton, you wouldn’t like me when I’m ang-“

Whether the recorded voice that suddenly filled the room prevented potential disaster or instigated it was a considerable question. Apparently Dr Banner was known for his volatile nature, but even an angry Dr Banner may have been easier to deal with than the chaos that ensued when the unknown recorded voice spoke.

“Mr Clinton Barton, marksman, accused of the murders of Thomas Smith and Roger Brown. Dr Bruce Banner, doctor, accused of the murder of Veronica Day.” The voice continued, listing each of the guests and their accused murders. Each of them turned tense, a sense of panic polluting the air as they listened. “Miss Natasha Romanov, military nurse, accused of the murders of Samuel Lewis and Oliver West.” The named woman with short bright red hair sat expressionless save for the twitch in her lips. “Captain Steven Grant Rogers, accused of the murder of James Buchanan Barnes.” The blond man visibly shuddered and looked down. “Mr Anthony Edward Stark, accused of the murder of twenty-six men.” The brunet man frowned, downing the rest of his whiskey, he would never forgive himself for the weapons malfunction.

The recording eventually finished, leaving the guests in silence and making any effort to avoid eye contact with one another. Eventually Mr Stark spoke.

“So…what the hell was that?”

“She was a patient of mine.” The doctor said quietly. “I tried everything I could to save her, but it was my fault.”

“We all make mistakes, Dr Banner, why we are all here is another question though. Apparently this voice knows of our pasts, our…apparent _murders.”_ Colonel Rhodes shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, who was the voice? Is it our host? Where is he?” there was a tinge of panic in Chief Odinson’s voice. It seemed unnatural to be coming from such a strong, respected character. The bearded man shuffled in his seat, seemingly unsure of whether he wanted to run from or fight the voice.

“Mr Owen is not due to join us until tomorrow night.” Mr Roberts stated, concern on his features.

Captain Rogers stood up, “We are all being told about this Mr Owen. We all received invitations from him. But, do any of us actually know who he is?” Everyone looked at one another across the table, some shrugged their shoulders. Captain Rogers sighed.

“There’s something strange going on, Captain. Question is, what do we do?” Mr Stark looked to him, brown eyes meeting blue. Captain Rogers looked at the man’s face, at that ridiculous beard. He had heard about the man before, how cocky and self-assured he apparently is but now looking more vulnerable than ever. The two considered for a moment before Mr Barton broke out into high pitched hysterical giggles, gradually growing louder and louder.

“I tell you what I’m going to do!” the young man didn’t care that they were all staring at him. He reached for the full bottle of red wine, poured out a whole glass and finished it in one go. “I’m getting the hell out of here!”

“And how do you suppose you do that? Take a boat out in the pitch black in this storm by yourself?” Miss Potts tutted.

“Quiet, Doll, I’ll figure something out.” Mr Barton turned to the woman, his grin turning into a smirk as he ran his hand up her thigh.

“Mr Barton!” she exclaimed and flinched away like his hand was made of fire. The man simply laughed and laughed, the only one finding the situation funny. It wasn’t until he started choking on his laughter that the others paid him any attention.

Mr Barton felt his throat close on him, his breathing becoming increasingly difficult as he gasped for air. He began to sweat uncontrollably as he choked and clawed at his throat. He felt it welling up his gullet, forcing its way up in a terrifying display of red soaked clothes when he coughed up blood. He panicked, fear stricken eyes staring at the guests closing around him, a mixture of worried and horrified expressions. The man fell, stone cold death claiming him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Rogers sighed, walking down the corridor to his room. Everyone had retired to bed, exhausted from the evening following Mr Barton’s death. It was poison. Mr Barton was poisoned and nobody knows why. Whoever Mr Owen is, for some reason, he wanted them dead. The words from that recording still resonated within his mind. He will never forget the moment he failed to save James Barnes, watching his friend plummet to death.

“Quiet, wench! Stop that flapping mouth of yours and shut up!” Captain Rogers was abruptly pulled from his memory, Mr Roberts’ hushed tones directed to his abused wife escaped from behind the door.  For a brief moment the Captain considered if Mr Roberts was the killer, and made a swift return to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, feeling deflated. He hated not having a strategy, and not knowing the enemy…if there even was one. A frame on the back of his door caught his eye and he approached it. It was a poem, “ _Ten Little Soldiers_.” If his suspicions weren't high before, they certainly were now.

 

_“Ten little Soldiers went out to dine;_

_One choked his little self and then there were nine.”_


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following from the events of last night, the guests wake up to another suspicious happening. The Captain thinks he has it all figured out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Bit of a shorter chapter this time. We are getting closer to our solution to the mystery (and the explicit sex scenes in chapters 4 onwards)!

If Dr Banner was hoping for an uneventful morning, he was sorely mistaken. Examining the lifeless body of Mrs Roberts as she, according to her husband, died in her sleep, he questioned why he ever agreed to come here in the first place. Her death wasn’t the same as Mr Barton’s but it was obvious she was murdered. They all knew that. Whoever is killing them is far too clever to use the same trick twice. The poison that killed Mr Barton was easily enough to figure out, even if he did have a hefty dose of narcotics prior to the dinner, that wasn’t enough to kill him. The doctor spent the rest of the night laying Mr Barton’s body to rest with Mr Stark. Apparently there was another guest as sleepless as he was.

 

There was a tense atmosphere around breakfast, the remaining guests sitting in awkward silence and exchanging glances at one another. Whatever little trust had developed between them was quickly demolished after they concluded there was a murderer on the island. They ate whatever slop Mr Roberts had thrown together in a vain attempt to cook as well as his wife did and a lot of it remained un-eaten. Eventually each guest had left the table to try and while away the day and distract themselves, it was obvious nobody was coming for them today after last nights’ storm. The mist had descended once more and thicker than ever, as if nature was keeping them as her truly isolated prisoners.

 

Captain Rogers was the last person left at breakfast, he stared at the strange centrepiece displayed atop the table, a distorted looking chessboard with equally distorted looking marble green figures arranged upon it. Nobody really took notice of the sculptures since they arrived but the Captain couldn’t help noticing that the figures looked more sparse than before, as if some of them were missing. Eight. He counted eight, and there were eight of them on the island. The sinking realisation as his suspicions were confirmed made him feel sick, he felt his chest tighten and he wanted to run, or shout or do something, anything to get off this island and back to his life with his friends and his girl, Peggy. He still owed her that dance. She deserved so much better than him, everything was so quick after the war ended. All he could give her was a brief kiss before he was whisked away to several publicity events including this conference and she disappeared on an undercover mission. There was no way of contacting her or knowing if she was even still alive. He couldn’t lose her as well after seeing his best friend shot down in cold blood before his very eyes. He winced at the memory of seeing Bucky plummet to his death, forever convicted to an icy grave in a deep snowy cavern.

 

“Woah, Captain. You ok there?” a gentle voice beside him brought him back to the present. “You’re not freaking out on me are you?” the voice continued. Mr Stark set two glasses of whiskey down onto the table and sat beside him.

 

“Here” he said, pushing one of the glasses towards him, “you look like you need this.”

 

The Captain wordlessly turned to the other man and simply nodded, pretending to sip at the drink after he saw Mr Stark finish his in one go. Nobody was innocent here, even if the gesture was sincere he couldn’t trust the man or anybody on this island. The brunet continued looking at him, eyes lingering over the Captain’s lips over the whisky glass when an almost devious smirk crept onto his face.

 

“Well, Cap, we might all die here at this rate and nobody knows why; so why don’t you and I have a little fun?” The smirk turned into a signature grin and the Captain immediately placed the glass down hard onto the table, spilling most of the drink in the process.

 

“Mr Stark, whilst you have a track record with particular interactions with men and women, please do not assume I am that kind of man.” Captain Rogers pushed his chair back, intending to make a swift exit.

 

“Oh c’mon, Captain!” the billionaire laughed. “You’re breaking my heart!”

 

Captain Rogers stood up. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark, but I think you have me mistaken for somebody who cares.”

 

“Ok, look. I was just trying to lighten the mood, or distract you from whatever thoughts you were having back there.” His voice softened along with his features. “Either way it worked.”

 

Captain Rogers turned to him and sat back down.

 

“Those must have been some thoughts, Captain.” The man look genuinely concerned. In any other circumstance he may have opened up to Mr Stark, told him his story on the front line and confided in him. But this wasn’t any other circumstance, even if the man before him could understand or empathise even slightly. Mr Stark was silently looking over his features and lingering over his lips again, as if it was some habit he couldn’t stop himself from doing. It made the Captain feel exposed and slightly uncomfortable. He wondered if Mr Stark knew his habit had this effect on people or if it was just him.

 

Eventually the brunet continued. “We are all thinking the same thing, and we are all trying to stop ourselves from going crazy but I don’t think sitting here by yourself staring at some weird green chess pieces is doing the trick.”

 

“They’re a set up.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This whole thing is a set up.” It was the Captain’s turn to watch the other man’s features intently as he explained. “There’s eight.”

 

“Eight what?”

 

“I know it sounds like I’m going crazy but there were more of them yesterday I am convinced of it.” He gestured towards the pieces.

 

“I’m not following you, Captain.” The billionaire frowned at the Captain’s intense expression and his equally intense blue eyes boring directly into his.

 

“Mr Stark, did you notice a hanging on the back of your door?” the man nodded. “It was a framed poem, ‘ _Ten Little Soldiers?’_ ” the Captain continued.

 

“I didn’t read it. I didn’t think it was important, just a room decoration.” Mr Stark shrugged, concern written on his face.

 

“No but it is!” the Captain proceeded to recount the first two paragraphs from memory. He watched as Mr Stark’s eyes widened and the expression on his face turn to pure fear. They both looked at each other in stunned silence and slowly turned to the eight sculptures standing before them.

 

_“Nine little soldiers sat up very late;_ _  
One overslept himself and then there were eight.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I've got a massive job interview coming up in 2 weeks which will require a lot of my time and preparation. I will try and get the next chapters out as soon as possible!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another murder shakes things up for our doomed guests! Also a lot of internal monologues.

“Mr Stark, are you coming?” the man in question turned towards the voice. The cold air bit harshly at his face, contorting his features as he shivered. They had been searching for the best part of the day now, hoping to find this mysterious Mr Owen and interrogate him until they had even a slight idea as to what the hell was happening on this damn island.

 

Colonel Rhodes offered a small smile to Mr Stark and they both followed Captain Rogers and Chief Odinson to search the South face of the island. The guy was okay. In any other circumstance, Mr Stark imagined he would have made good friends with the Colonel over drinking games and pretending to pay attention in meetings. They both had similar interests from what he could remember, and he seemed like a good laugh even if a few of his jokes fell flat at the last charity dinner.

 

The four of them walked together, miserable, cold and on edge, trying to make haste of the task at hand for fear of finding the house full of corpses on their return.

“We will search Devon and then head back to the house.” The Captain spoke. “Whatever little daylight we have left is disappearing faster than we hoped, and if we are out here in the dark we might as well have bullseye targets on our back.”

 

“The Captain makes a good point.” Chief Odinson led the way, the apprehension and frustration strong on his features. He clearly wasn’t one to hide his emotions, quite paradoxical for one who has not only fought but took the lead in several battles during the war.

 

“I don’t know why I agreed to come to this conference in the first place.” Colonel Rhodes walked with Mr Stark, that small smile back on his face. A strange coping mechanism but at least one of them found a way. Stark returned the smile, almost laughing at how surreal the situation was.

 

“Trust me, if I could have gotten out of it I would have. If a guy with my charm couldn’t, there’s no hope for the rest of us! I couldn’t even talk them into letting me take a private plane here.”

 

“That boat ride was something else, huh?”

 

“Never taking a boat anywhere again, Rhodes, not even a luxury cruise.”

 

“Well next time there’s a conference, you ride with me.” Mr Stark could only respect the Colonel’s optimism.

 

The four men spent another hour searching before calling it a day. They were exhausted, cold and significantly demoralised.

 

“Hey, Colonel. We’re going inside.” Mr Stark looked at the man with concern, noting the sudden change in the man’s previously light mood.

 

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next time, Stark.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Colonel Rhodes sighed, “Don’t worry about it.” The smile was back. “You guys go ahead, I’ll join you soon.” He turned away to stare at the sea before the other man could answer.

 

The silent walk back to the house was punctuated with a few stolen glances at the Captain and his amazing physique. Mr Stark wouldn’t usually try and seduce such an uptight person but he did love a challenge, especially with an undeniably striking specimen. He brushed off his earlier flirtatious attempts as a joke, a distraction technique but God, did he want to have some fun with the man. He had slept with a lot of people at conferences and meetings before, it had almost become a tradition in a way, one he certainly didn’t want to break now, even with a murderer on the loose. A hot and heavy night of lovemaking would certainly take his mind off the threats they faced. He imagined all kinds of scenarios that could play out between them, one involving Captain Rogers completely naked and panting beneath him, his impeccably coiffed hair a total mess, the clean, innocent, flawless soldier perfectly corrupted by Stark’s influence. If he was getting anything out of this conference weekend it would be the Captain, whether he made it out of here alive or not.

 

“Stark! Mr Stark!” The Captain was right in his face, his eyes wild. It took a while for the man to adjust to the fact that they had already made it to the dining area and Captain Rogers had appeared to read his mind.

 

“Where is Colonel Rhodes?”

 

Ok, he can’t read minds, then. Good.

 

“He said he would join us soon,” the brunet cleared his throat, “needed a moment by himself I suppose.”

 

Captain Rogers suddenly seemed disturbed, the usual calm exterior a distant memory. He huffed and strode closer to the table, pausing over the strange figures before abruptly turning around and marching out of the room, Mr Stark and Chief Odinson in tow.

 

“Captain, it’s not wise to go back outside on your own.” The Chief placed a gentle arm on the Captain as he headed back out the door, but he was simply shook off. The others followed him towards Devon.

 

“Seven! There’s seven pieces which can only mean one thing!” Captain Rogers sounded uncharacteristically frightened. It wasn’t until his fears were confirmed did the others understand.

 

Colonel Rhodes’ body lay where Mr Stark had left him, dead eyes staring blindly at the clouded sky above, beneath a horrific head wound indicating a fractured skull. Whoever was killing them wasn’t just doing so randomly, they had this all planned out.

 

They were being watched.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner passed quickly enough and the night wound down with a rare moment where all the guests would bear each other’s company long enough to sit in the drawing room. Initial meaningless conversations had long since dwindled away and everyone sat in silence. It wasn’t until Mr Roberts had excused himself to make preparation for tomorrow’s meals did anyone speak about something of significance. The others listened intently to Chief Odinson as he outlined their findings from their search and more importantly about Colonel Rhodes. Conversation turned to speculations as to who could be the killer, becoming increasingly heated as each guest accused each other only to have their reasoning countered by an equally logical explanation.

 

This was confusing and Captain Rogers’ head hurt. Not even the greatest strategical mind could figure this out, but he had a pretty good idea as to who the murderer could be.

 

“I heard something on the first night” he explained the threats he heard Mr Roberts direct towards his wife and how she ‘mysteriously died in her sleep the next morning.’ It just didn’t add up. Most of the others seemed to agree, well, all except for Mr Stark who was shaking his head.

 

“You can’t just assume it is the butler” he said. “This is just something you heard out of context. The killer could be any one of us and if we go ahead and accuse the wrong guy the murderer walks away a free man.” The billionaire looked at the Captain as if he was an idiot, it riled him up a little bit to say the least.

 

“Oh yeah, and what leads do you have, Stark?” The Captain’s expression turned sour as he glared down at the other man. “Are you expecting the murderer to just confess on their own whilst you sit back and empty out the drinks cabinet?” a smirk appeared on his face when he heard the scattered snickers from the other guests and Mr Stark’s expression turned from initial irritation to humiliation when he saw the Captain’s sneer. Captain Rogers knew this is probably Mr Stark’s idea of a nightmare right now, public embarrassment and jokes at his expense but he couldn’t help enjoy the feeling. A lot. Seeing a slight flush raise on the brunet’s cheeks as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat was probably the most entertaining thing he had seen all weekend. To be honest Captain Rogers hated everything he knew about the man, his reputation of being a drunken party boy, his track records of one night stands and throwaway relationships, his incredibly frustrating snarky persona along with his offensive quips and arrogance the size of a planet; not to even mention his perfectly styled hair he probably spent hours on and that absurd stupid facial hair that bothered him every time he looked at it. Damn it, the man was _unbearable!_ He was everything Captain Rogers couldn’t stand to be around but _God_ he never wanted to fuck anyone more in his life.  He didn’t know how long he could keep up this ‘immaculate good boy’ image or his by-the-book soldier reputation but his patience was dwindling fast. He needed to vent his frustrations somehow and who better to vent them on than the resident bad boy with his not so subtle glances at his figure throughout this whole weekend. Captain Rogers almost laughed to himself then, Mr Stark probably thought he was being incredibly secretive and clever with the timing of his opportunities to rake his eyes over the Captain’s body, he couldn’t be more wrong. But then again, the man was a genius and probably deliberately wanted Captain Rogers to catch him in the act. A strange seduction technique that seemed to be working on him. Either way he couldn’t wait to take the man to bed and wipe that stupid cocky expression off his face and replace it with one of pure ecstasy and desperation as he begged for more from the Captain. Just the mere thought of having this powerful, world-renowned man completely pliable and lost to his will was a major turn on. He couldn’t stand it to the point of visible agitation. If he didn’t sleep with Stark at some point he would lose his mind. Solving these murder cases was one thing but resisting the urge not to walk over there and take the man right here in front of everyone was proving harder than he could hope. He was obviously staring at him for a while when he noticed Mr Stark’s eyes narrow at him and his posture change to lean forwards in his chair, elbows resting on his thighs.

 

“Oh you bet I’ll empty out that drinks cabinet, Rogers.” He began in a low voice. “This whole conference has been a bloody joke it’s the least I deserve! But I am not going to rest until I see whoever’s behind all of this dead with a bullet between their fucking eyes!” Mr Stark’s eyes became almost manic with rage, and he stabbed his own forehead with his index finger to drive his point further.

 

The Captain considered him for a moment, choosing how best to respond without sending the volatile man into a fit of fury before the doctor spoke up for the first time that evening.

 

“We are being hunted.” He simply stated. Dr Banner eyed the room and paused, finally pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing after a moment as if to squeeze away a tension headache. “There’s no use in sitting here and arguing about it all night, trying to solve a series of murders in a compromised sleep deprived state.” He stood up. “It’s what the killer wants, for us to be vulnerable and turn against each other. If we carry on like this we will be dead by morning.” The doctor left and retired to bed, his words hanging heavy in the air.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Mr Stark sat on the edge of his bed, he was probably the last of them awake and the house was unnervingly quiet. He hated the night time, always found it hard to switch off and go to sleep ever since he could remember. Dr Banner had a good point, however, how could all this genius work at only half capacity at best? His eye caught the poem hanging on the back of his door and he remembered the Captain’s words from this morning, there had been another death today. Could Rogers be on to something?

 

_“Eight little soldiers travelling in Devon;_ _  
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.”_


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More murders! More conspiracy! More drama! More sex! It's here, hope I delivered! I really enjoyed writing this one!

Mr Stark awoke the next morning feeling groggier than ever, he would have slept in longer if it wasn’t for the shuffling quick footsteps passing his door and raised voices coming from the downstairs area. He opened the door to see what the commotion was only to smack head first into a running Miss Potts, still in her pyjamas.

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

“Virginia! Are you alright? What’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know, I woke up to Dr Banner shouting for us, I’m surprised you slept through it, then again you were never a morning person.” She said with a small roll of her eyes. The two exchanged a brief nostalgic smile, remembering the short but simpler times when she worked for him. “The others are already downstairs, come on.”

 

The sight that befell them as they joined the other guests in the kitchen was nothing they could ever imagine. Mr Stark and Miss Potts were the only guests who had never been on the battlefield and witnessed such horrors, therefore failing to develop the stomach to bear the sight of Mr Robert’s body parts. The amount of blood all over the kitchen floor wasn’t even the worst of it; the sounds of Miss Potts’ retching outside the kitchen confirmed that. It wasn’t the fact that Mr Robert’s lower half of his body lay a good metre away from his top half. It wasn’t even the sight of what looked like his bowels hanging from his open torso glistening in a pool of blood. No, it was much worse. His top half was well and truly mutilated. His torso had been what could only described as harvested, visceral organs missing from within. Whoever could inflict such horrors had a deeply twisted mind, it was sickening!

 

Mr Stark turned away and started to feel himself hyperventilate, his heart pounding in his ears as he strode towards the dining area. Anything just to get away from it and sit down. He suffered through the oncoming panic attack, mentally talking himself down and out of the chaotic thoughts.

 

He had to get out of here.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Breakfast consisted of glasses of water for most, hardly surprising given the gruesome display left for them in the morning. Chief Odinson talked to Captain Rogers about moving the body and restoring the kitchen to a more favourable state. The two had joined the others at the dining table later, apparently the only ones to stomach the nauseating task of clean up enough to even keep down an apple each. Much to the dismay of the others they didn’t leave any details out in their conversation, keeping in every gory detail; Miss Potts and Miss Romanov looked paler by the minute.

 

“Do you mind?” the military nurse spoke up, glaring at the two men. “an innocent man just died in the most horrific way, the least you could do is show a little respect and not discuss the state of his body over the dining table.” The Chief and the Captain immediately fell silent. “We may have seen all sorts of things in the war, I know I certainly have both fighting on the battlefield and within the medical tents, but there’s a few of us who haven’t.” She flashed an almost kind smile in Miss Potts’ direction, her face briefly softening before scowling at the men again. They both looked at the tablecloth, muttering a hurried apology between them. Miss Romanov certainly didn’t speak much but when she did, boy, was she formidable!

 

“I don’t feel too well anyway.” Miss Potts made to stand up and made her way to the drawing room to lie down. With that the other guests took their leave, some went back to their rooms, others decided to get some fresh air outside.

 

“I don’t think Miss Potts was the only one feeling unwell back there, Mr Stark?” the doctor walked alongside the billionaire as they breathed the crisp morning air, breaths condensing with each exhale. Dr Banner leaned into Mr Stark and squinted his eyes, “You’re also looking a bit pale” he concluded.

 

“No I’m not.” The other man simply dismissed the comment.

 

“It’s okay, Mr Stark. I treated all sorts of wounds in the war but nothing could even prepare me for that sight. I’m not surprised you’re feeling this way. You need to take care of yourself, maybe get a little rest and-”

 

“No it’s not that. The Captain was right. The poem, it’s all playing out in the most fucked up possible way!”

 

“You mean the ones in our rooms?” Dr Banner raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I read it. Didn’t think much of it until now.”

 

 _“Seven little soldiers chopping up sticks;_ _  
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.”_ Mr Stark recounted.

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was a dense silence between the two, what could be said really apart from the obvious? The conversation topic turned to empty small talk on the way back the house, both agreeing to sit down to a hot drink once inside to shiver off this cold.

 

“Miss Potts, how are you feeling?” Dr Banner walked into the drawing room with Mr Stark in tow, making a direct path to the cups in the display cabinet without even a glance in her direction. “Would you like a hot drink?” She only responded with silence, probably fell asleep.

 

“Miss Potts?”

 

“Virginia?! Doctor!” Mr Stark exclaimed following a loud gasp. He crouched down in front of her, an expression of complete devastation on his face as he cupped hers. It wasn’t until he ran his hand down to her neck did he notice a small almost dart-like device sticking out of her neck. Dr Banner immediately came running over, examining her and confirming her death. The remaining guests filed into the room, they must have heard Mr Stark shouting.

 

After resting her body in her bed room, they settled on the cause of death as a poison dart to the neck, but not before the Captain checked the dining room and confirmed five pieces remaining.

 

“You see? It’s playing out exactly as the poem dictates!” Mr Stark looked unnerved, his hair mussed from running his hands through it several times.

 

“What do you mean?” Chief Odinson frowned.

 

“Each death has followed that poem in our rooms, which means the murderer isn’t going to stop until we are all dead, and they are going to kill us one by one by methods that would fit the poem.” Captain Rogers sighed and paced the room, quoting the next line.

 

_“Six little soldiers playing with a hive;_ _  
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.”_

 

“It has to be Mr Owen. Wherever he is.” Mr Stark took his invitation out from his jacket inside pocket and paused to stare at it. “We have searched this whole damn island and he’s nowhere to be fucking found!” he punctuated his sentence, balling up the invitation and slamming it down on the table. Captain Rogers picked up the crumpled invitation and skimmed his eyes over it, the crease lines of his frown becoming deeper as he reached the bottom.

 

“It’s virtually identical to mine, then signed Mr U.N. Owen.”

 

“U.N. Owen?” Miss Romanov sat up and held out her hand for the invitation, examining the signature. “U.N. Owen…” She repeated. A pregnant pause followed as she looked again at the page in her hands “…is, ‘unknown’. He doesn’t exist.”

 

“How can you be sure?” Captain Rogers replied.

 

“I can’t. But it’s a possibility.”

 

“I hadn’t considered that.”

 

“Then let’s consider it now.” Miss Romanov stood beside the Captain. “Say one of us, right here, in this room is the murderer, how do we know they are not hiding anything?”

 

“Then we search the rooms, all of them. The whole house top to bottom including anything that might be on our person.” Captain Rogers addressed the room.

 

“Captain’s orders!” Stark muttered to himself.

 

The rest of the day was spent just as predicted, each room search ending in disappointment, nowhere nearer to finding any clues. At least it gave a perfect distraction for Mr Stark to take his mind off the murders, watching the Captain bend down to search under tables and chairs as well as catching a sneaky peek at his midriff whenever he reached up to the highest shelves. He remembered his self-assigned objective for the weekend and now was as good a time as any to try and forget the morning and permanently erase it from his memory with a good fucking. No amount of alcohol could do that.

 

It was as if the opportunity fell into his lap when it came to the bedroom searches. Each guest had to strip down to the bare minimum without completely sacrificing their dignity whilst the others searched their room. Mr Stark spent his room search in nothing but a bathroom towel wrapped around his waist, leaning against the doorframe and following the Captain with his eyes. They locked gazes a good few times, but Rogers didn’t entertain him for longer than a second, simply turning away and carrying on with the task at hand. Mr Stark couldn’t miss the fact that Rogers was a lot more distracted during this room search than with the others, however. Well, it was his own fault for suggesting this in the first place. Mr Stark smiled to himself. Game on, Rogers. Game on.

 

The search ended with Captain Rogers’ room. He stood outside his own bedroom alone leaning with his back against the wall dressed in nothing but a thin dark blue dressing gown. What a rash decision making the guests strip down to almost nothing. After searching Stark’s room and seeing the man almost naked and leaning against the doorframe gawping at him with a lopsided smile every time he dared to glance had his mind thinking of only one thing. He swore the man deliberately did it, made the most of the opportunity and even forwent wearing his dressing gown just to pose like some self-obsessed idiot the whole time. What a narcissistic, exasperating, distractingly handsome moron! God, he hated him!

 

“Woah, someone’s looking a little tense!”

 

Captain Rogers immediately looked up with a short, sharp inhale when he saw who had decided to show up. Perfect timing. Typical!

 

Mr Stark stood close to the Captain, right in front of him and still wearing only the towel despite his room already having been searched. The Captain couldn’t help but dart his eyes over the brunet’s body as he looked up. He couldn’t speak for fear of his voice coming out broken and strained. God, he was getting desperate now it was pathetic! He couldn’t do anything, not here, not now! He opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling his whole mouth go dry and his throat constrict. He simply cleared his throat and locked eyes with the other man; it’s all he could do.

 

Mr Stark exhaled a brief laugh through his nose and the lopsided smile was back, but more so with the added come-hither eyes. He brought one hand up to rest on his hip, dangerously close to the waistband of his towel, not once breaking eye contact. Captain Rogers lost all concept of time and place, it was just him and Mr Stark right now…and his increasingly harder to control arousal. The billionaire wasn’t going to relent there, however. The Captain’s eyes dragged down the other man’s body to rest on the hand there on his hip, he saw Stark move his fingers slightly, lightly fondling the waistband of the towel before teasing the tip of one finger underneath the waistband and stroking the bare skin there. Mr Stark took an audible deeper breath and followed the blond man’s eyes down before meeting them again, cocking his head to the side as if to challenge him. Captain Rogers cleared his throat again, feeling his whole body flush as well as his face. A dead give-away that put him at a significant disadvantage. This man was such a tease! Well if it’s a game he wants to play, then he will play it.

 

The Captain decided to play on his weakness and turned on a flirtatious almost coy act; he was going to completely fool the man and keep up this innocent good boy persona a little bit longer. Oh this was going to be fun! He gave Mr Stark a timid smile and looked down, fully engaging with his performance as he looked up again through his eyelashes and pretended to shuffle uncomfortably. He raised one of his hands up to the lapel of his gown resting on his bare chest and gently curled his fingers around it, pulling it aside slightly and making sure to brush his bare skin with his fingertips as he did so, letting out a barely audible moan that could be heard just between the two of them. Captain Rogers mimicked Stark’s head tilt and looked directly at him. Your move.

 

The brunet looked surprised and raised his eyebrows, mouth opening slightly. He paused to wet his lips and swallowed loudly, breaking his cocky act for less than a second before letting that smirk back onto his features.

 

“Well, well, Captain Rogers.”

 

“Mr Stark.” He breathed

 

The brunet considered him for a moment before smiling politely as if they have met for the first time. “Tony.” He corrected.

 

The blond matched his smile. “Steve.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned back against the wall again. Tony moved closer to him and he let out another moan of anticipation before the brunet abruptly stopped and stepped back.

 

“All clear in here.” Dr Banner declared to the Captain. He looked between the two men with an inquisitive expression for a moment before turning away back to join Miss Romanov and Chief Odinson. It was time for dinner.

 

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The Captain wasn’t going to sleep tonight without some sort of release. So when he retired to his bedroom he stripped down to the dressing gown again and sat on the edge of his bed, sighing and trying to figure out a way to be as quiet as possible whilst he satisfied his own lust. Everybody else must be trying to sleep by now and the last thing he wanted was to wake them all with his moans and cries for Stark. He could already feel the pleasure start to pool deep within him and he was about to get started when a light knock was heard against his door. He paused, cautious and apprehensive but the person on the other side knocked again. He stood up and barely opened the door a crack only to see the reason for his arousal standing on the other side, wearing a red and gold dressing gown. God, everything about that man had to scream extravagance!

 

“Steve?” Stark breathed. The man’s eyes were dark, pupils blown in a combination of compensating for the dark and his own lust.

 

The door closed behind them both and the lock was turned, there was a good minute of stillness between them as Tony stood near the door and Steve in the middle of the room. They looked at one another, running their eyes over the others body as much and as blatantly as they wanted, they finally held each other’s gaze, giving a small nod as if to confirm this is what they both wanted, even if it was for one night, even if it would all be forgotten the next day. They knew they both needed this.

 

Tony was about to approach Steve, make his move and take the man as his for the night when he felt his back slamming into the wall, Steve’s hands an iron grip on his upper arms. His face was barely inches from his own and he could feel the Captain’s breath on his lips, then he pressed forward, their lips meeting in a soft, light kiss. Steve broke the kiss as soon as it started and looked at Tony’s expression, as if it was final confirmation for consent. That was the last of any gentle treatment, because as soon as Steve got another nod to proceed, he was all over Tony. It was frenzied and rough and took Tony completely by surprise. He felt his wrists being pinned back to the wall as the Captain pressed the whole length of his body against Stark’s, rutting against him and breathing heavily, denying Tony of any more kisses at this point despite his efforts to close the gap. His hands were all over his body and came to rest on his hips; he pushed him harder against the wall and finally _finally_ kissed Tony again. It was nothing like the first kiss. This was all desperation and passion and pure want all rolled into one. Tony immediately threaded his hands into the Captain’s blond hair and gripped hard. Lips moved against each other and Steve pushed his tongue into Tony’s mouth, taking over control and pushing harder. Tony could feel the arousal of the other man against his hip and his own arousal growing. He was going to pass out if Rogers kept at this pace, the kiss consumed him and everything he knew. He sighed into the Captain’s mouth helplessly, completely submitting to him. He thought Steve’s innocent good boy act earlier was the hottest thing he had seen but this was something else. The good boy was a bad boy and nothing turned him on more. He moaned when Steve moved down his jaw and attacked his neck, throwing his head back for good measure. Good performance earlier, Captain, touché! Well done, Rogers! Had me entirely fooled back there! You’re not sweet and innocent at all, you bastard!

 

“Language.” Steve breathed against his neck. “Do you talk so much you don’t even realise you’re doing it?”

 

“Clearly.” Tony breathed and ran his hands down Steve’s back to his backside, pulling him closer. “Didn’t have you down as a bad boy after that act you pulled earlier. Now I can’t trust any guy without a dark side!”

 

“Well let’s just say you haven’t seen it yet.” Steve grinned at Tony, devouring his mouth again and running his hands up and down his chest, pushing his dressing gown further apart and off his shoulders.

 

“God, Steve!” Tony gasped each time Steve brushed his nipples. “You’re unbelievable!”

 

“You think I haven’t noticed all your keen looks at me all weekend? Your constant advances covered up as trying to lighten the mood?” Steve bit down on Tony’s collarbone, eliciting a loud gasp from the other man. “I knew you’d crack eventually, I thought it’d be a little bit of fun to play with you a bit, make you feel like you’re the one in control of this whole thing.” He sucked on his collarbone, biting harder. Tony whimpered. “I know you’ll do anything I want tonight. You’re practically begging to be fucked, Stark! I bet you’ve fantasised about sucking my cock too, you filthy boy!”

 

“Steve!” the brunet whined and keened into Steve’s touch, nodding with whatever the Captain said. He knew every word was true, he couldn’t stand it but it made him harder than ever. The blond moved his hands further down and he cupped Tony’s crotch through his dressing gown, making the other man hiss, canting his hips into his hand.

 

“Look at you, so pathetically desperate for this, for more.” Steve gave a small laugh and licked at Tony’s exposed nipples.

 

“Oh! Steve, please!” the man moaned louder and the Captain placed a hand over his mouth, forcing Tony to breathe through his nose and muffle incoherent words into his hand.

 

“We can’t wake the others!”

 

Tony felt himself being pulled away from the wall and guided towards the bed. The moment he was pushed onto the bed his dressing gown was undone, leaving his front completely exposed, his erection curving up to his belly and already leaking. Steve was on top of him in seconds, wasting no time and thrusting his hips against Tony’s, getting that glorious contact he has been waiting for. He looked down at Stark, watching his stupid face showing nothing but bliss and pleasure. He continued to play with Stark’s sensitive nipples and rubbed his thumbs in circles over the hard nubs, relishing the jolt of desire it shocked through Tony, making him arch his back off the bed and moan. Steve continued this for a good few minutes, running his hands all over Tony’s torso, finding the sensitive parts and sucking on the bare skin there, only to receive gasps and moans from the other man.

 

“What’s wrong, Stark? You’re usually so talkative?” Steve teased.

 

“Shut up, Rogers! Stop stalling and get on with it!” the billionaire quipped. He could barely talk, the man was a mess and Steve loved it!

 

The Captain moved down to Stark’s erection and wasted no time in taking it into his mouth, licking the head and length before devouring it completely, all the way down and slowly back up. If Tony’s state was anything to go by before then this was the cherry on top. If Steve could film this right now he would. Tony writhing on the bed, gripping onto the sheets and biting his lip hard to stop the moans from coming out too loudly or silently screaming when the pleasure spiked. His head was fully extended and eyes screwed shut in concentration to try and control his breathing. This was too good to be true. Steve carried this on over and over until he felt a strong hand gripping his hair again and pulling harshly, almost painfully upwards. He looked up to see a dishevelled Stark practically gasping for air.

 

“Stop. I’m so close- I want, I want to together.” The man lay back and caught his breath. “You’re too much, Rogers. Oh my god!”

 

Steve came back up and kissed the other man, slowly lingering there before working his hand down between their bodies and taking both their erections in one hand. He watched him intently as he started to slowly pump his hand up and down their lengths coated in pre-come.

 

“Tony, look at me.” They fixed gazes on each other and started moving their hips with each stroke, breaths becoming more irregular and thrusts becoming more haphazard and frantic. Steve could see the pleasure welling up in Tony and he was close himself. If the sounds he was making were anything to go by, Tony was loud in bed. He leaned down to capture Tony’s lips in a kiss mainly to muffle his shouts of pleasure when he came, along with a string of “Yes, Steves” “Oh Gods” and several profanities. The white hot desire surged through them both and Steve wasn’t far behind when the other man released between them. Steve bit down on Tony’s neck to silence his own moans and added to the mess between them, catching his breath then rolling off the brunet to get something to clean them up.

 

Both men lay there in silence, breathing normalising and then they were back to reality, just like that. It was nice while it lasted, certainly taking their minds off the nightmare they were living in even if it was just for the one night.

 

Without another word, Stark stood up, re-tied his dressing gown and lightly padded to the door, throwing one last look at Steve.

 

 “Goodnight, Captain.” And then he was gone.

 

So we are back to ‘Captain?’ He was stupid for ever thinking this could be anything more than a meaningless fuck to relieve stress and pent up frustration. Stark had a reputation for this kind of stuff why would he be any different? And just like that, Steve had a whole other problem to worry about. Like Stark said, ‘Well done, Rogers.’


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the night before, and anything could happen...

Ok, so last night was a mistake. Mr Stark yawned and rubbed his forehead, trying to keep up with whatever Chief Odinson and Dr Banner were talking about, but he couldn't get his mind off Steve. Last night was…well it was mind blowing! It didn't take a lot to surprise and shock Tony but ever since he had witnessed a dirty talking, rough, dominating Captain Rogers it was everything he had ever wanted.

 

All he could think about was getting more from the man and giving him more. What was initially meant to be a quick make-out session to relieve their tension for one night had turned into a full blown mission to get the man to fuck him properly. A seemingly impossible task given how coldly the Captain was treating him since he got what he wanted. He felt so overwhelmed and uncomfortable after they had finished he couldn’t bring himself to stay there any longer and encroach on the Captain’s hospitality. Especially when he didn’t speak a word to him for the rest of the night or even look at him. Breakfast and lunch went the same way and couldn't have been more awkward between the two. Tony recalled the man looking at him from across the table, no expression on his face. He tried to smile at the man only to have him turn away, and this wasn't just the one occasion either. He could feel his eyes burning into him all morning and couldn’t understand why the silent treatment all of a sudden. It was driving him crazy, but Stark wasn't a man who gives up easily, even with his current levels of frustration. He had seriously miscalculated this, what was supposed to make him feel more relaxed had actually backfired horribly, making him feel like a rubber band pulled so tense it was about to snap. If it wasn’t for the cool afternoon breeze coming through the dining room window where the three men sat, Tony could have sworn he would have boiled away on the spot right in front of the doctor and the Chief.

 

They whiled away the afternoon talking about their lives, their loved ones and some other trivial irrelevant matters, the mood apprehensively light given the fact that there had been no murders in the last almost 24 hours. If it was any other situation, Tony would have been engaging the room, maybe even joking with the other two, but he couldn’t concentrate. Instead he just dipped in and out of the conversation, feigning interest in the idle chat between fantasies of the Captain doing all sorts of unsavoury things to him.

 

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Steve lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and a strange disturbing black hook nailed to it beside the light. The hook had caught his attention on the first night but he elected to ignore it, push it out of his mind ever since he had figured out the poem. Not now, he thought.

 

Stark’s behaviour had been strange last night, everything was going so well and then he just left, no other words apart from a stunted goodbye. He was acting as if it didn’t even happen last night, a detached meaningless smile was all the billionaire could give him the next morning and it almost broke the man. Nobody had ever had this effect on him, nobody had captivated yet repulsed him more than Stark did but he was fascinated by the man. He hated to love him and loved to hate him. He wanted to know more about him and explore more of him. Last night, as incredible as it was, wasn’t enough. He had a whole new craving that was so much more intense than the last and was crying out to be satisfied with unbearable clarity.

 

A cold shower was enough to stave off the cravings for now but Steve still couldn’t bear to face the brunet for the rest of the day, holing himself up in his room was the best solution for now, even if it did make him feel like an irrational teenage girl with a schoolgirl crush. A nap would get rid of these thoughts, at least he would be able to escape them for now. He felt tired after staying up for hours when Stark left, contemplating the night of passion and the man’s odd behaviour. He just couldn’t make sense of it all. He felt his eyes drift closed, that black hook being the last thing he saw before falling asleep.

 

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It was colder than ever, and pitch black. The Captain shivered and tried to make sense of where he was. He tried to take a deep breath in but he felt each breath getting harder and harder to draw in. He started to panic, feeling his mouth fill with freezing cold salt water that set the nerve endings in his teeth into an agonising frenzy. He was drowning and he was sure he was going to die here. It was his turn next, or maybe he had already died? A faint glimmer of blue light shone to his right and he turned towards it, the body of his best friend frozen in time, an eternal scream of pure fear immortalised onto his frozen features.

 

“Bucky!” he tried to scream but no sound came out. He tried to reach for his friend as he sank lower, away from him but he couldn’t move his arms. Suddenly he found himself back in the bedroom, but it felt different, like he was there but wasn’t. He could feel the cold sweat on his body, his throat still constricted as his eyes fixed on the hook. He tried to turn his head away from it as his breaths came in quick shallow pants. He felt pinned to the bed by some sort of invisible force, unable to move his body, unable to make a sound as he silently screamed and unable to turn his head to whatever was causing this. He was scared, he was vulnerable and immobilised as the sleep paralysis took over his body, not quite conscious, not fully asleep but stuck in a cruel transition between the two. It was torture and he silently screamed again, over and over willing his body to snap out of it and wake up for what seemed an eternity.

 

The next thing he could remember was the doctor sitting him up in his bed. Steve was out of breath, coughing as if to clear the salt water from his lungs. At least he could move again. The Chief was there as well with Mr Stark, both of them flushed from running up the stairs and looking worried.

 

“H-How long-“

 

“We just arrived, Captain. You were screaming several times at that thing on your ceiling.” Dr Banner offered him a drink of water as he continued. “You gave us quite the shock, you know, with a murderer on the loose, we thought…” He shrugged, a cynical smile on his face.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Well at least you are alive, Captain. We should check on Miss Romanov, anyone seen her since lunch?” Chief Odinson made his way out of the room when almost on cue a gunshot loudly shook the house. The sound echoing through the corridors and reverberating off the walls. A brief pause and deadly silence followed as the four men looked at one another, locating the sound to the downstairs quarters. All four of them immediately leaped into action, following the sound to the other end of the house and to the drawing room.

 

Maybe they should have checked on her sooner. Maybe they shouldn’t have assumed she was resting in her bedroom as well. Maybe they should have seen another murder coming. What was certain was that the woman was dead, a bullet having gone directly into her head, blood splattering the wall behind her as well as other cranial contents. The killer had a strange sense of humour, the curtains having been pulled down in what could be assumed to be an attempt of a struggle as they were draped around her seated in the armchair like judges robes. Just like the poem, Stark thought.

 

_“Five little soldiers going in for law;_ _  
One got in Chancery and then there were four”_

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If the current atmosphere continued as it did, Captain Rogers might just tear his hair out. The remaining guests had spent the last hour sitting at the dining table as the sun set, trying to keep some semblance of a discussion about Miss Romanov’s death going. But it was strained, tense and almost surreal, knowing that one of the four of them is the murderer and that one of them will be the next one to die. Their positions almost matched those of the remaining chest pieces, facing each other in a square like a stand-off before an epic battle where only one could emerge alive.

 

The looks Mr Stark was throwing him certainly didn’t help his current mood, sat directly opposite, the Captain would notice his eyes constantly gravitate back to his every time there was a moment of silence. Every time their eyes met they would immediately bounce away from each other, darting around the room in a desperate search to find something else interesting to bore their exasperated gaze into. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, grinding his teeth and tensing his jaw as he mirrored the man opposite almost down to the guarded posture. This could have gone on all evening until he finally decided he had enough and dared to sleep again, he was about to retreat to his room with a hurried excuse before Stark loudly cleared his throat and let his hand supporting his chin flop onto the table with a loud slap, making the other three guests jump.

 

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this…shall we get a little crazy tonight?” he surveyed the room, analysing and weighing up the reactions of the others only to receive blank expressions.

 

“What do you mean?” the doctor frowned.

 

“I mean see this ridiculous excuse of a conference out on a high, do what we were hoping to do in the evenings- what I was hoping to do in the evenings.” he corrected, taking a long sip of his wine.

 

“You mean have some sort of party?!” Captain Rogers couldn’t believe that this was even being suggested, he could feel his anger rising. “Six people have died here over the last few days and you’re talking about having a party?!”

 

“Not a party, Captain.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about the perfect evening to try and dilute the horrors of this absolute shit show we are living in!” Stark stood up to pace the room, “I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m feeling pretty fucked up, to the point that I can’t think straight! We are living in a conscious nightmare and God knows, I’ve had enough flashbacks to haunt me for the rest of my life if I’m lucky to make it out of this damned place!” he threw down his wine glass, not caring about the shards lying across the ground or the mess he made. Silence descended thick over the room, all eyes on him as the three men didn’t know what to say. The only sound in the room were the breaths of Mr Stark, slowly but surely becoming more grounded and controlled. He turned to the others, voice at a much lower tone and his eyes wide and almost glassy. “Look, all I ask is to forget about this. All I want is to just erase anything that has ever happened over these last few days and try and get some sort of normality back.” His eyes down cast to the floor and he shook his head slightly. “I’ve tried to forget it by other means but who knows if that will work. I don’t even know if these means are possible anymore.” The Captain met his pointed look, knowing fine well what he meant. “We need to take extreme measures.” He continued as the others started to consider his proposition.

 

“What extreme measures are you talking about, Stark? I doubt anything surprises you anymore.” the Captain quipped, still feeling a bit cynical about the idea.

 

“Does anyone recall the contents of Mr Barton’s snuffbox?”

 

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It was chaos. Messy, undignified, completely shameless chaos. And they loved it.

 

Raucous laughter filled the room and the drinks were flowing freely, all the guests under the influence of the same narcotics Mr Barton took on the first night. They had managed to find records to play into the room and it felt exactly like a party should feel like. It was almost as if the murders didn’t happen, and even if they did, they didn’t care. All that mattered now was this present moment and for the first time everyone felt relaxed and happy, constantly teetering on that edge between their current mood and euphoria and, oh, it was glorious!

 

The men looked an absolute mess, their shirts untucked, collars open and hair completely mussed, Stark’s left jacket sleeve was barely hanging on by a few threads but the man cared more about the two drinks he was holding and spilling everywhere as he stumbled across the room. Rogers had somehow managed to keep his tie on albeit in a lopsided uneven crumpled loop around his neck as he sipped contently at his whiskey, taking long drags from the cigarette in his other hand and making sarcastic wisecracks in every other sentence. Banner was completely gone, smiling uncontrollably and laughing at the smallest things like a chair tipping over, his shirt in an equally dishevelled state. Finally there was Odinson, apparently able to handle this better than the rest of them simply leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, a big grin also on his face as he let the events play out around him. His legs were up on the table and he tapped his foot in time to the music, probably having the best hallucination right now as he too, puffed on a cigarette.

 

Stark had finally managed to make it across the room to Rogers, slumping down on the chair next to him and practically leaning his upper body right into the blond. He leant over and took a drag of the dying cigarette perched between the Captain’s slender fingers.

 

“Hey, Captain Steve, my Captain oh Captain my-!” wherever Mr Stark was going with this sentence simply dissolved into a fit of giggles. Steve ran his hand up the back of the other man’s neck and placed his hand gently into the wavy brunet locks, laughing along with him.

 

“Finally coming round again, Stark? It’s nice to see you so… _amiable_ tonight.” Steve looked directly at Tony, lips slightly parted. He was doing that eyebrow thing again that just drove Tony crazy. Steve could hear the other man’s breath hitch when he forced himself to pull away before things got too heated in front of the others.

 

“Oh I’m always amiable for the prettiest dame in the house!” Tony winked at the other man when he saw a flash of arousal intermingled with irritation on the Captain’s features. “Oh, what’s wrong, Captain Steve, did I hit a nerve?”

 

Steve suddenly leaned forwards, his face inches from Stark’s. Tony was sure the man was going to kiss him right there but the next thing he felt was a light brush of lips against his ear. “I’m gonna make sure I hit a few nerves of yours tonight that will drive you crazy…” Tony could feel Steve’s hand on his knee, running up the inside of his thigh and massaging the skin dangerously close to his crotch. Tony sighed and closed his eyes, almost losing himself in the moment. There was a light whisper of Steve’s name on his lips accompanied by a subtle keen towards his touch.

 

“There we go, doll. I knew you wanted more.” Tony was speechless, dropping his head down to the man’s shoulder, trying to control himself and his desires. He leant away from the Captain, biting his bottom lip and breathing through his nose, hoping that a few inches of physical distance would be enough to control him and the red hot surge of arousal igniting his body. He looked a pitiful state next to the Captain, the man’s face barely showing a hint of a smirk as he slowly and deliberately dragged his eyes up and down the billionaire’s body, knowing he had completely won over Tony.

 

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The night was beginning to wind down, the previous elated mood turning to one of relaxation and almost drowsiness; apart from Tony that was. He spent most of the night sitting at the table to hide his obvious urging for Captain Rogers, electing to sit opposite the table for fear of losing control and making an embarrassment of himself in the public rooms. He watched the Captain take control of the room and laugh lazily with Dr Banner and Chief Odinson, eyes following him around the room as be continued to bite and lick his lips, exaggerating it slightly when he caught Steve’s eye, even throwing in a wink or a smirk. If Steve was going to wind him up then he was going to play him at his own game again. The man may be the greatest strategic mind of his generation but when it came to Tony’s genius mind, boy did the man underestimate him!

 

He thought the man had reached peak arousal when he felt himself being pulled up into the Captain’s strong arms and against his chest, but the man simply held him there, swaying slowly to the calmer tones of the music.

 

“Steve?”

 

“Shh, Tony.”

 

“Steve what are you-?”

 

“I’m gonna protect you, Tony. Whatever happens, we will make it out of here alive.”

 

The two men momentarily looked at each other, a simple but profound acknowledgement of this shared promise.

 

Across the room, Chief Odinson watched the two, an arm slung loosely around Dr Banner’s shoulders and a stern frown on his face. “Look at those two, Banner!” he spat, eyes concentrated on the Captain and the billionaire. “Stark and Rogers, calling each other by first name, seems pretty suspicious doesn’t it?” the two stayed there for moment, observing the two whispering to one another before calling it a night, no longer able to withstand the sight and deal with their conflicted influenced moods. Nothing made sense any more. The Chief went directly to his room, firmly closing the door behind him and trying to figure out a plan to investigate and reveal the two as the killers. It was the only rational explanation he could think of right now, all he needed was some hard evidence.

 

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When Tony felt Steve’s lips ghosting against his neck and the man pull him closer against his body he couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. He pushed his hands against the Captain’s chest and uttered a rushed concern about Chief Odinson and Dr Banner only to find the room empty save for the two of them. Yet the feeling persisted.

 

“They left ages ago. The room is ours.” Steve’s voice had dropped an octave and his eyes were half lidded as he leant his forehead against Tony’s, breath playing on his lips. He pushed his suspicions out of his mind, letting the present moment take over again. Whether it was a drug induced paranoia or a genuine threat, Tony stopped caring. All that mattered now was the fine specimen in front of him crowding him against the table. He felt the back of his legs hit the table and he held onto the table edge to support himself. Steve didn’t waste any time in locking lips with Tony, hooking his fingers into Tony’s belt and sucking on the other man’s tongue.

 

“Do you even know…” Steve breathed against his lips “…how fucking insane you drive me?!” Steve traced his lips down Tony’s bearded jawline before grabbing the back of the brunet’s head and smashing their lips together again. “You wanted this. You have been wanting this all day! With those desperate looks you were giving me all night!” He spoke between kisses, abusing Tony’s swollen lips. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you constantly licking and biting your lips! Well, if you like that so much…” Steve took the man’s bottom lip between his own teeth and dragged it agonisingly slowly, eliciting a whimper from him. “Yeah? You like that?” Steve did it again, but harder this time, feeling the man beneath him shiver. “I bet this is giving you a thrill, doing this right here in the open where anyone can see! The fact that they can all easily hear us down here, hear you screaming my name like a slut! I bet it turns you on!”

 

Tony could feel his arms give way, he clutched at the table trying not to collapse like a pathetic wanton fool but he went down anyway, falling backwards onto his elbows, crotch pressed uncomfortably against Steve’s. A teasing grin almost made its way onto the soldier’s face as he breathed a laugh, but Tony grabbed the man’s haphazard tie, pulling him down on top of him and kissing him within an inch of his life. He couldn’t let Steve have complete control. He let his fingers dance across Steve’s impressive chest, making quick work of disposing his tie and shirt, taking a moment to enjoy the perfect view in front of him before running his hands across every inch he could, kissing the base of Steve’s neck, revelling in the fact that his scratchy beard against the bare skin made the other man’s breath hitch.

 

Steve lifted Tony up to sit on the edge of the table and the brunet reflexively wrapped his arms and legs around the Captain, trying to get as much contact as he could. His jacket and shirt were pushed aside and the skin on skin contact only made them crave each other more. Their kisses turned messy and uncoordinated, both of them sighing and quietly moaning.

 

“Gonna fuck you so hard tonight, Stark.” Steve groaned, unbuckling Tony’s belt and tugging at the waistband of his suit trousers until they pooled on the floor below them.

 

“Oh that’s not fair!” Tony joked with a grin on his face, tracing a single finger along Rogers’ jawline, gently guiding him in for a soft, chaste kiss. “You ruined the surprise, honey!”

 

Captain Rogers grinned back, placing his palm flat in the centre of Stark’s chest, trying to push him back to lie down fully onto the dining table. “Oh I’m full of surprises!” the man reached into his trouser pocket and produced a small subtle packet of what looked like lube. Tony’s eyebrows shot up and he immediately sat up, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape as he gasped loudly.

 

“You planned this! You devious little bastard!” Tony couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Steve had wanted this as much as he did and had even gone a step further to try and plan ahead. The man was unbelievable!

 

Steve looked directly into Tony’s eyes, and let an almost evil smirk play on his lips. Tony felt the desire within him building to almost dangerous levels, feeling his exposed length harden even more. He let Steve push him back down onto the table, he went down easily, too drunk on arousal and alcohol to play around with teasing the Captain. He even moved his legs apart, hooking one leg around Steve to pull him in closer. He gripped the man’s blond locks tightly, letting him go to town with his mouth on his neck. He loved threading his fingers through the soldier’s hair and pulling almost painfully on the strands, and he could tell it turned the other man on as well. Tony could feel a hand drifting lower and lower down his naked body and he moaned Steve’s name loudly when he felt a slick finger press against his entrance. Steve watched Tony’s face as he dared to push his finger inside, revelling in the brunet losing control over his expressions and his body. Tony bit hard down on his lower lip, desperately trying to mute the sounds he wanted to scream out into the air around them.

 

“Don’t think you can keep quiet this time.” Steve moved his finger in and out of Tony and added a second, rubbing against that spot inside that made the man cry out.

 

“St-Steve! Fuck!”

 

“That’s it, doll. Say my name!” he moved his fingers faster, leaning down to lick into Tony’s mouth and swallowed the moans of the man beneath him. Tony couldn’t keep up, constantly breaking the kiss to gasp for air. He was overwhelmed and overstimulated and his body couldn’t handle this. He moved his hips to deepen Steve’s fingers, frantically trying to reach his climax but Rogers could see right through it and pulled his fingers out with a simple “No.”

 

Tony whined and glared at Steve in annoyance, which would have probably been more effective if it wasn’t for the lust completely clouding his emotions and making his glare seem like the pathetic pout of an insolent child. Steve merely ignored him and unbuckled his trousers, letting the cool air hit his hard length, eliciting a quiet hiss from the Captain. He made Tony wait for it as he slicked himself up, moaning and gasping as he grasped his erection and gave it a few strokes, Tony’s name falling from his lips. Finally Tony felt the head against his entrance, slowly but firmly pressing in. He was biting his lip again, breathing heavily though his nose and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. It hurt.

 

“Tony, relax.” The Captain’s words were almost gentle in tone and he stroked Tony’s hip, feeling the man beneath him loosen up slightly, his eyes fluttering open and his teeth releasing his swollen, bitten lip. Steve immediately kissed it, lingering there above his lips as he pushed in further to the deepest point. He waited for Tony to begin moving before he started up a steady insistent pace that only got faster and deeper as each of them moved perfectly in rhythm to one another’s bodies. They would constantly try and lock lips in a passionate kiss only for one of them to break it with a loud moan or a cry of one of their names. Eventually Tony threw a hand over his mouth and bit down onto the back of it as he whined Steve’s name, arching his back off the table.

 

“Oh God, Steve! I-it feels so good! Ah!” he muffled his words against his hand and bit harder at the skin, not wanting to give Steve the satisfaction of having the other guests hear him crying out for him.

 

“No, I want to hear you, Stark! I want everyone here to know you’re mine tonight!” Steve took Tony’s hands and held them down onto the table on either side of Tony’s head. Without any warning he suddenly changed his pace, speeding up and making his thrusts deeper, practically pounding into the brunet man. This was too much for Tony, and with no way of controlling the volume of his moans the man let rip, gasping Steve’s name, crying out for more and swearing at the top of his voice. He could hear his own voice everywhere, echoing around the room and probably around the house and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It only made his arousal peak further, knowing that they could be seen at any point, Steve fucking into him and Tony spread out onto the table like a cheap whore. He was helpless to prevent it and it made him feel dirty and sordid but he enjoyed it, revelled in it, even. He performed for Steve, making his moans louder and writhing against Steve’s body hissing through his teeth and boring his eyes into Steve’s, feeling the other man’s grip on his hands tighten. He could tell by Rogers’ expression he was about to lose it.

 

“Yeah, that’s it, Tony! Louder! Who do you belong to?”

 

“You, Captain-Oh!” their thrusts became more frantic and desperate.

 

“Who do you belong to?” he asked again.

 

“You, Steve! Oh god I’m- I…”

 

“Scream my name, Stark!”

 

They both released in the most colourful, loud and verbal display, languidly kissing as they came down, not quite hitting reality this time. Their perception of the real world was still distorted by the cocktail of substances each had taken that night. Neither knew how long they stayed like that but they didn’t care, they were in no hurry and they didn’t want to be in a hurry. What was real or not right now was all blurred into a confusing mess of the sights and sounds around them.

 

They managed to eventually redress themselves into a vaguely decent state, buttons done up unevenly and belts loosely buckled, stumbling and leaning on each other as they made their way to the upper quarters, tripping over the others feet and sniggering to themselves and at one another. They made poor efforts to shush each other, only able to communicate in laughter. By some miracle they blearily managed to make it up the stairs to the landing when Tony ran both his hands up and down Steve’s waist, pushing him backwards into the nearest wall and landing a careless kiss onto his mouth, feeling Steve smile against his lips with him. They could have stayed there all night if it wasn’t for the sound of loud footsteps below them.

 

They both immediately held their breaths and crouched down near the landing railings where they had a clear view of the main entrance beneath them. It was brief but the unmistakeable blond ponytail of Chief Odinson was visible as the man took long purposeful strides towards the main door and slammed it behind him as he stormed outside. Tony and Steve looked at each other, and immediately tip-toed as quietly as they could to Steve’s door.

 

“You don’t reckon he saw us?” The Captain questioned looking slightly concerned but distracted as Stark pushed him against the wall again.

 

“He had his back to us, genius!”

 

“No, I mean…earlier?”

 

“Then we scarred him for life!”

 

Captain Rogers tried to care, he really did, but the alluring man in front of him running his hands up and down his sides again was too tempting to ignore. He watched as the billionaire smirked and buried his head into his chest, snickering uncontrollably then tilting his head up to mouth at Steve’s neck. The Captain sighed, losing himself in the moment and letting Stark have free reign over his body against the wall. The brunet undid Steve’s belt again and guided him towards the door, opening it and forcing Steve backwards into his own room.

 

It was tomorrow’s problem now. Tonight was for Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had even more fun writing this one than the last! We have nearly solved the mystery!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jig is up and the murderer is revealed! But who will survive?

When Tony woke up the next morning, the tearing headache splitting his head in two surprisingly wasn’t the most concerning thing. An arm slung loosely round his naked waist made him jump slightly with a start before he remembered the incredible and confusing events last night. He replayed what he could memorise from his euphoric stupor and ending up in the Captain’s bed the next morning was the perfect ending. It felt almost domestic and romantic, something he would definitely pursue if they both made it out of here alive like they promised. He smiled to himself at the thought, feeling unusually optimistic about the situation and turned to face the sleeping man beside him. He was the only thing here that made sense, and the only thing that got him this far or he was certain he would have risked his life in a dangerous escape or even killed himself just to end this living horror story. He landed feather touches down Steve’s bare skin, lightly touching his fingertips down his torso and…oh, what’s this?

 

When his fingers brushed against the other man’s erection the Captain gave a small gasp and stirred slightly in his sleep. Tony decided to have a little fun and rouse the soldier in the most glorious way he could. A light kiss was planted on Steve’s hip and Tony breathed over the man’s length, taking his time, drawing out the moment before it was all over again and they had to face whatever today had in store for them. He lapped at the head, lightly sucking it and smiling when a very quiet moan fell from Steve’s lips. He moved further down the length bit by bit, alternating between licking and sucking, relishing in the taste and everything that is _Steve._ When the Captain began to gently rock his hips, Tony stilled them, dragging a hand up his torso and sucking harder. He kept up a slow but insistent pace, letting a few moans out as he felt his own arousal growing. He curled a hand around his own length, stroking at the same slow pace.

 

“ _Tony…oh! Tony…”_ The Captain stirred again, this time opening his eyes and gasping as he gradually slipped into consciousness. Tony felt a hand gently slide through his wavy brown locks and caress the side of his face; this definitely felt more like making love than the mindless fucking they had previously. It was bittersweet and neither wanted this moment to end.

 

“Well. Good Morning, America!” Tony grinned up at Steve, moving his way up his body to land a leisurely kiss on the man’s lips. Steve simply stared at him, closing the gap to kiss him again before dropping his head back onto the pillow, clutching his head and groaning. “Me too, Cap!” Tony laughed and stroked his hip. “How about I take your mind off the pain, or take our minds off…things for a bit?” They both looked at each other, a few beats of silent passed and the serious look in their eyes was unmistakeable.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’d like that.” Steve whispered, his voice sounding slightly broken from dehydration and possibly something else Tony couldn’t even begin to face right now. The brunet nodded and made his way back down the Captain’s body, taking his erection into his mouth again and moving at a slightly faster pace. He moaned around his length and grasped his own erection as Steve sighed above him. The arousal was rising within them, burning slowly and growing. Steve gripped at Tony’s locks, putting a gentle pressure on the back of his head as he guided him down each time, hissing through his teeth and moaning Tony’s name every few seconds.

 

Tony could taste the pre-cum on his lips, knowing Steve was close. And so was he. As much as he wanted to draw this moment out he couldn’t ignore the desire for release as it built to levels he couldn’t stand for much longer. Steve was breathing heavily, canting his hips and letting his mouth fall open. His eyes were closed and his whole body was flushed, moans and cries of Tony’s name filling the room and it made the billionaire only want him more. Tony moved his hand faster around his own length, feeling himself almost tip over the edge.

 

“Tony! Fuck! I’m so close!” Steve gripped his hair hard, almost thrusting his hips as he gasped louder, “God I love it when you do this! Your lips stretched around me! You can’t get enough just like how you were all over me last night!” He grunted and gasped between words. “Oh Tony, you’re my perfect little slut!”

 

Dirty talk from the Captain always did it for Tony and he moaned loudly around the other man’s erection as he felt his release spilling over his hand. Steve wasn’t far behind, filling Tony’s mouth as he swallowed everything he could. They both moved together, as fast as the other and crashed their lips together, riding out the high for as long as they could and wildly kissing before they came down to Earth and hit reality again with one almighty thud.

 

They moved apart and the apprehensive mood descended around them, air thick with dread and longing to get through this alive. The two men readied themselves as quickly as possible, barely a few words exchanged between them as they knew there was a whole day of horrors that lay ahead of them. They stood close to one another before making their way downstairs, merely staring at each other, eyes tracing the other’s features as if to memorise the other’s face. Tony made a slight move forwards, hesitating and pausing before the Captain turned away and opened the bedroom door. Not now. It hurt too much to let this carry on and make this anything more than it was. This was only meant to be a stress reliever but he had already gotten in too deep with Stark. If he took this further into anything meaningful it would destroy him. No. Nobody was innocent, yet.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

****

“Do you care to tell me what the fuck you two are doing?!” A seething Banner greeted the two men as they entered the dining room. He was sat at the dining table, a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass in front of him as the man slightly slurred his words. He was drinking already this early in the morning which only meant one thing. Something terrible has already happened.

 

“Dr Banner, what-“

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark!” he spat and threw Steve’s tie onto the table in front of him. “While you two were doing all kinds of disgusting…things, another murder has happened!”

 

Tony gave a small gasp and Steve’s eyes immediately fixed onto the remaining figurines next to his tie. There were three.

 

“The Chief. We saw him leave the house. Did he not return?” Tony immediately made his way to the bedrooms, pushing each door open only to find the rooms empty. The three men silently searched every room for Chief Odinson, whether he was alive or dead. Finally Steve spoke.

 

_“Four little soldiers going out to sea;_ _  
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.”_

“He’s outside.” Dr Banner concluded. “Either way we aren’t safe in here anymore. If we go into open land we can at least set up a signal now that the mist has cleared a bit.”

 

The remaining guests looked between one another, frowning suspiciously. One of them killed Chief Odinson but nobody was willing to admit to the crime. They all agreed and took piles of firewood outside to the cliff’s edge. Tony shivered and tried to light the matches but failed with his numb fingers. They were going to be here a while.

 

“Shouldn’t we get some food and supplies, or at least a goddamn blanket?” Tony directed to no one in particular but was looking towards the doctor.

 

The bespectacled man tutted and staggered his way to the house, mainly to get away from those two fools who were too busy messing around to prevent a murder. Unless they were the ones who killed the Chief. It certainly wasn’t him, he retired to bed early as did Chief Odinson. They were the only two who stayed up late, making a lot of noise doing unspeakable things. He shook the thought from his head and stepped into the house, stumbling as the drunkeness hit him, making his head spin. He grabbed another drink and downed it in one gulp, letting the burning liquid further blur his senses. It was the only way he could cope now. He made his way to the upper levels and to the end of the corridor to what looked like an airing cupboard. He firmly pulled out blankets when something in the corner of his eye made him jump suddenly. His head ached, the room starting to spin around him and the sight of sharp claws and teeth coming towards him was the last thing he saw before he went down. He tripped, hitting his head hard off the wall as the full weight of the clawed statue came down on top of him, crushing his ribs agonisingly slowly. It was painful and he eventually suffocated to death, feeling his breaths becoming shallower and more painful with each inhalation. Even in his inebriated state he was able to figure out what he initially mistook for a real bear was just a statue, but he couldn’t deny it was moving towards him when he noticed it. He was followed by the other two and they did this. It had to be. It was only logical that he would be the next one to be killed, he was doomed from the beginning.

 

Dr Banner laughed to himself, he was dying and he was intoxicated but nothing mattered any more. Chief Odinson was right; Stark and Rogers were the killers and they had gotten away with the most spectacular series of murders without being figured out until now. But who was going to reveal that? He was the only one who knew and he was going to die. The whole situation was ridiculous and what was the point in even trying to care now. He was just another piece in the game.

 

_“Three little soldiers walking in the zoo;_ _  
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.”_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Dr Banner has been gone a while.” Tony stated, already turning towards the house.

 

“Well he’s certainly been acting strange all morning. Maybe he’s plotting to kill us both in there.” Steve quipped, half joking but with a serious undertone. It only made sense that he is the murderer. It couldn’t be either of them, right?

 

“You stay here and set up the fire. I’ll go.” Tony said tossing the box of matches to Steve and already briskly walking to the house.

 

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again, making his way to follow Stark but stopping in his tracks. He cared about Tony but there was still a possibility he could be the murderer as well as Banner. Nobody was safe or innocent here and the man was a genius. He couldn’t risk it and elected to stay and light the fire. He promised the man they would both make it out here alive during the euphoric haze the night before, he didn’t realise the brunet would take it so seriously or even remember.

 

Tony stepped into the warmth of the house and cautiously made his way into the main hallway, keeping his steps and his breathing as quiet as he could. His eyes caught sight of a gun on the floor beside the display table on his right. He could have sworn it wasn’t there before, unless Dr Banner was hiding it this whole time but had a lapse in concentration and left it there, the man was blind drunk and could barely walk. It wouldn’t surprise him if Dr Banner had dropped it. He took the gun and paced the rooms with it ready to fire, ready for whenever Banner would jump out and attack him. He was constantly alert and prepared as he searched the deathly silent house, slowly placing one foot in front of the other and darting his eyes in every direction. His senses were heightened and his heart pounded against his chest, he could feel his breathing become more erratic as he worked himself up. Any minute now and the doctor will be there. Any second now and the doctor will kill him. Everything prepared him for Banner being the murderer. But nothing prepared him for Banner being the victim.

 

Tony gaped at the sight in front of him, the crushed chest of Dr Banner would have been the most terrifying thing about this if it wasn’t for the half smile on the dead man’s features. It looked surreal, like something out of a horror movie, an almost absurd appearance of the man being attacked by a bear just like the poem and the smile on his features further demonstrating how ludicrous the situation is. It was disturbing and unsettling. But Tony didn’t have long to dwell on that. Whoever was killing them wasn’t a remaining guest. And whoever was killing them was likely to be in the house still. And he was in the house. Alone.

 

Tony bolted for the door, tucking the gun into the back of the waistband of his trousers under his suit jacket.

 

Steve immediately turned his sight to the brunet man running then jogging towards him, constantly looking over his shoulder. He came to a stop beside Steve and scanned the landscape around him, panting and eventually calming down when he saw no one following him out of the house.

 

“Tony! What happened?!”

 

“Banner’s dead!”

 

“How, what?!”

 

“The killer. It wasn’t him. There’s somebody in there and they killed him! He was dead before I even got there!” Tony took a few deep breaths, still calming himself. “What if it is Odinson? What if he hid the piece to trick us?”

 

“No, it can’t be Odinson.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I saw something when I was lighting the fire.” Steve pointed to the cliffs across the bay, looming over the beach below. There he was, lying face down on the sharp rocks a few feet above the beach, his body contorted over in the most awful way. His limbs were definitely broken with the way they were positioned. He looked like a rag doll.

 

“We can’t be up here. It’s not safe.” Tony finally spoke. “Let’s go down to the beach.” Steve followed him down and Tony walked towards the body of the Chief.

 

“Tony, what are you doing?”

 

“We have to move the body. Everyone else we have laid down to rest properly. We can’t just leave him here.”

 

“Tony, I hardly think that’s a priority-“

 

“I don’t care, Steve! We have to move him I can’t stand looking at him like this! Now help me!”

 

Tony started to climb the rocks towards Chief Odinson’s body. Steve sighed and made his way towards Tony, but he froze when he saw Tony reach up. His suit jacket rode up as he raised his arm and all the colour drained from Steve’s face when his sights confirmed what he dreaded the most. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and bile rise up in his throat. Stark had a gun. This whole time he was hiding a gun, God knows what else he was hiding. He insisted on going to the house alone and then Banner was murdered. It all made sense, he killed Banner, he killed them all!

 

“Steve, what are you doing? Are you coming to help me or what?” Tony turned his head to face the other man still standing on the beach two feet below him. “Steve? What’s wrong?” his tone carried genuine concern but Steve just harshly laughed, looking at Tony as if he was scum.

 

“You did it Stark! Well done you!” he sarcastically applauded. “How are you going to kill me then?! With that gun you have there?”

 

Tony immediately jumped down and faced the Captain, both hands raised.

 

“Steve no. It was there in the house, I thought Banner dropped it. I took it to protect us.”

 

Steve laughed again, louder this time. “You expect me to believe that?! How stupid do you think I am?!”

 

“Steve you’re not thinking rationally. I’m not the murderer I swear!”

 

“Oh then I suppose _I_ must be the murderer then?! Hmm?!”

 

“Neither of us are! How could I have killed those people when I wasn’t anywhere near most of them when the murders happened?!” Tony gestured towards the Chief’s body.

 

“Oh, I don’t know! You tell me, Mr Weapons Manufacturer!”

 

“Steve you have this all wrong!”

 

“You were the last one to go to bed every night, who’s to say you didn’t carry out the murders or plan and set up things overnight?”

 

“Steve! You aren’t even making any sense right now! How could you think this?! After everything we-“

 

“Oh don’t start on that, Stark! Don’t you fucking dare!” Steve’s voice cracked on the last two words. He felt betrayed and hurt more than he could bear to handle.

 

Tony gasped when Steve was right up against him, a hand firmly grasping his shoulder and his eyes glaring directly into his. If their faces were angled any differently they could be kissing, but Steve had other ideas. He slipped a hand quickly down Tony’s back and grasped the gun handle, pushing Tony away before the brunet could begin to catch on what he was doing.

 

“Steve…No.” Tony raised both hands again and spoke gently, feeling himself being backed closer to the sea at the business end of a gun pointed directly at his chest by a furious looking Rogers.

 

“I trusted you.” Steve whispered sadly. The gun in both his hands shook, “I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU!” his eyes glazed over and all Tony could do was stare back and move cautiously as he felt the tide lap at his ankles.

 

“Steve, please don’t do this.” He could feel his own eyes sting and his vision blur. He would have liked to blame it on the sea air but he knew exactly why his eyes stung. “Steve, please.” He made another feeble attempt to plead with the Captain and he shook his head, a tear betraying him as it rolled down his cheek. He was scared and his chest clenched. There was no way he could prove his innocence.

 

“Don’t, Tony.”

 

“Steve…”

 

“Sorry Tony.” Steve’s voice wavered, “You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice.” He took a step closer and sighed, grief and heartbreak evident on his features and in his voice. “I was convinced we could have been something more than this.”

 

“So was I.”

 

The two gunshots rang out and echoed off the cliff faces as Stark fell backwards into the shallow salty tides. The bullets had gone clear through him, directly through his heart leaving a gaping hole in the centre of his chest as he bled out, staining the sand around him a deep red. The man’s dead face showed the hurt and pain in his features, doomed to bear that expression forever.

 

Steve let go of the gun and took shaky steps towards Tony’s body. He dropped to his knees, covering his mouth with his hand and sobbing miserably. Tears flowed freely as he looked down at the brunet, he couldn’t believe he killed him. He murdered somebody, just as Stark had murdered all those guests.

 

_“Two little soldiers sitting in the sun;_ _  
One got frizzled up and then there was one”_

 

It was done. Finished. It had to be done, but he couldn’t live with the guilt.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The sound of heavy footsteps thudded through the house as Rogers unsteadily made his way upstairs, nearly tripping over every other step. He had finished the last of Banner’s whiskey and Barton’s snuffbox and everything happening around him right now was either real or a very palpable hallucination being played out in his unconscious mind. It was the only way he could stand the pain and the remorse, the only way he could possibly numb the sickening mix of emotions torturing him every second. The surroundings looked familiar but misty, he swore he could see his best friend standing on the landing out of the corner of his eye and turned to look directly at Bucky only to find his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. He didn’t know where he was going or why but his feet were moving as if automatically drawn to compulsively act out the last line of the poem. He was the last one remaining and he was meant to die. It sure beat living with the post-traumatic stress disorder he would have certainly developed as a result of this.

He pushed open the door to his room and looked at the hook on his ceiling, setting up the rope he found curled in the dark corner of his room. It was as if he was on auto-pilot. He couldn’t think or try and rationalise what he was doing to stop himself. Death was the only way out of this and he felt envious in a way of the other guests, they didn’t have to live through seeing each one being killed off until they were the last one left, completely alone.

 

The rope was coiled around his neck and his bare feet were firmly planted onto the wooden chair beneath him. He sighed miserably and took one last look at the poem, swallowing the lump in his throat.

 

_“One little soldier left all alone;_ _  
He went out and hanged himself and then there were none.”_

He moved his feet to tip the chair, feeling it give way from underneath him and teetering on its side on two legs, perfectly balanced as he dropped slightly, feeling the rope becoming tight. The chair was just about to be completely lost beneath him when the door to his room opened, a slender arm wearing long black sleeves coming into view. Steve gasped and caught the side of the chair just in time, he was desperately balancing the chair on his tip-toes, bringing his hands up to grasp at the loop around his neck and pull himself up, but the strangulation around his neck only eased slightly.

 

“Bucky?” He rasped out.

 

The flash of red hair and the woman’s slim figure came towards him. He looked into her eyes and she looked completely different, clad entirely in a black leather jumpsuit, her curls ironed out into a straight bob that just touched her shoulders. Her lips curled up into a smile.

 

“Miss Romanov! How-“

 

“Captain Rogers.” She spoke in a natural low voice, thick Russian accent no longer being covered up in the high pitched American accent she spoke previously. “You should be proud of yourself. You’re the last one. I always knew it would be between you and Mr Stark but you won!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Steve gasped for air and coughed, curling his toes tighter around the chair’s edge. The woman simply spoke quietly in Russian into a communication device before coming closer to Steve, setting down what was presumably the last green marbled piece onto the dressing table to his right.

 

“That was quite a show you and Stark put on last night. I’m impressed! Even in this situation you both found a way to, what was it? _Relieve stress?”_ she raised her hands into quotation marks, almost laughing as she did it. “What I didn’t account for was you both getting all soft on each other and playing the hero. So I decided to hurry things up and plant a gun after killing the doctor.” Steve gasped again, his eyes widening.

 

“No…”

 

“I knew one of you would find it and keep it, then it was just up to your paranoia to turn you both against one another. You did the work for me, dear Captain!” She brushed her slender fingers ever so lightly against his cheek and he flinched away, glaring at her the best he could through clenched teeth. “And you’ve done it again for me. I thought I would have to sedate you and hang you myself but look at you here, all ready for me like the good gentleman you are!”

 

“Fuck off!” he gritted through his teeth, feeling the blood rise in his cheeks.

 

“Oh, Captain. My poor Captain. I actually liked you, you’re a good guy. It’s such a shame you’re too much of a threat.”

 

“What do you mean? How? How are you even alive? We saw you.” He coughed again and tried to pull himself up again with his hands. “You were shot. Your blood was everywhere! Your brain…”

 

“Oh you mean the butlers blood and viscera? Yeah…” she shrugged, feigning nonchalance but her expression darkened “…easy mistake to make.” Her grin was almost feral when she saw Steve’s mouth drop open, pure terror in his eyes.

 

“You’re sick! You’re twisted!”

 

“And you’re dead.” She teased the chair, nudging it with her foot and moving it back by a centimetre, Steve still kept his toes firmly on it and cried out. She huffed a laugh and moved away, boring her eyes directly into Steve’s. “The mission was easy. I was even able to play a game with you all and really freak you all out with the poem. Oh! This was too much fun!” She smiled again and paced the room. “You see, Steve, it would have been nice having guys like you working for us. But you all made your side perfectly clear in the war. And with people as powerful as you all on that side, well, we can’t have that!”

 

“What are you talking about?!”

 

“We’ve been watching you, Captain. All of you.” She came right up to him, leaning up into his face. “And you chose the wrong side!” She moved closer, bringing her face cheek to cheek with Steve’s. The two words she whispered into his ear would be the last words he would hear, for she suddenly kicked the chair out from under his feet, letting the blond claw at his throat and lose himself. He couldn’t breathe and his head was thrown back, hyperextended as his cervical spine fractured. She turned her back and the red and black emblem on her back confirmed her words, and suddenly it all made sense as those last two words resonated through his mind in his dying moments.

 

“Hail, Hydra.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Agent Natalia Romanova met the man outside as he dropped down from the aircraft hovering above him, his long brown hair whipping in the wind. He returned her smile, watching her drop the green marble piece onto the ground and crushing it beneath her boot as she came closer. She looked elated, having successfully carried out the most complicated and risky mission they had ever faced. He extended his enhanced left arm and she felt the cool steely fingers at the back of her head slide into her bright red hair as he pulled her forwards and passionately claimed her lips. They could both feel the other grinning into the kiss and they laughed together. It was over. And they had won.

 

_“One little Hydra agent her mission done;_

_Shattered the last piece and then there was one.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for reading this! This is the longest thing I have ever written and the first of any kind of long story with a complex plot. Apologies for any grammar errors, this is unbeta'd and mainly written late at night! I certainly lack the skills to write anything that isn't a parody but I hope you enjoyed it all the same! It broke my heart writing this chapter and writing this particular character as the murderer because they are honestly one of my favourites. But it is an AU and anything is possible! I am officially exhausted after this! 
> 
> Thank you again and any comments/kudos/bookmarks are greatly appreciated!


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